


Lets Do It

by Apricots_from_Nara



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, And the Handmaid is jealous, Blow Jobs, Cheating, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Jealousy, Lord English and the Condesce are married, Past Prostitution, kind of a song fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-23 04:11:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3754066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apricots_from_Nara/pseuds/Apricots_from_Nara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Handmaid shouldn't be jealous, but in the end she wasn't married to Lord English.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lets Do It

**Author's Note:**

> This story was a birthday gift to a friend of mine, which gave birth to a very complex Homestuck AU that takes place in a 1920's-esque city. I may post the rp we ended up doing some other time, but for now this is enough.
> 
> Basically Lord English is a gangster who deals weapons and booze, and the Handmaid is his mistress. The Handmaid is very much in love with Lord English, and even he is In love with her (he's a fully matured cherub and he and his sister were actual twins with no need for murdering the other to reach maturity). But he's married to the Condesce for political power.

The troll curled her lip as she pulled on her silk stockings, fastening them to her garter belt.

The Handmaid was furious.

Her boss was with his wife tonight. His trophy wife. They were out on the balcony over looking the stage.

She adjusted her bodice, making sure it held her breasts close to her body, then added some rogue to her knees. She looked at her arms, at old cigarette burns adorning them.

Lord English was hers. He got her out of the damned whore house she used to work in. She deserved him more then that bitch.

Lord English was a notorious mobster. Though not very smart, he made it up with pure brawn and shrewdness. He had literally fought his way up to the top. And with his gang, The Felt, he was ruling half the town.

Not only did he dabble in weapons and booze, but he had a substantial hold on the red light district.

That’s when she entered the picture.

She had been a prostitute. A pitiful excuse for a woman, even by the standards of prostitutes. She had no name and she sold her body for cheap.

Luckily she had looks. So being cheap meant she got twice as many customers, which meant she had made even more money then the others.

Sadly this also made her a victim to the more rowdy crowd. Thus, she had old burns and scars from the freaks.

Then, English came to her, looking for a ‘fun time’. He was cheap. Even if he was filthy rich he was cheap as hell. And as she was the prettiest one in her bordelo, he picked her.

Thus she got a second chance.

He had enjoyed their time together, and so had ‘bought’ her. She became his escort. Always on his arm when his wife could not be.

Which was most of the time.

The Handmaid knew all his dirty secrets. She knew how The Felt was run. She was always with him. In front of his fifteen highest ranking members she fed him and poured him his scotch.

When alone or when they were partially obscured from view for extended periods of time, she was his little mistress. Using the skills she picked up to pleasure him.

Once she gave him a blowjob during a meeting he held with his crew, with her under his desk, hidden from sight thanks to the decretive panel it had. It soon turned into a game, her trying to see if she could make him mess up and expose what was going on.

He didn’t skip a beat, though he told her it had been the best blow job he ever got.

And English wasn’t too bad at sex either.

When alone in a booth during the shows he liked to go to, they would have their own private petting party. His hands were rough and strong, leading to mind-blowing orgasms.

The petting often turned to full blown sex. She would sit in his massive lap, or he would make her lean over the banister. The thought of being caught made it all the more intense.

The Handmaid was certain he only went to those shows just for that.

“Missy?”

The troll looked up, glancing in her mirror. “You finished the dress, Stitch?”

“Yup. It should look mighty nice on you. Better get it on. Yer up soon.”

The Handmaid stood, adjusting her garter-belt one last time before taking the dress from the green man. She stepped in it, letting Stitch fasten it up as she put on a few gaudy necklaces.

“Knock ‘em dead missy. And I hope you impress the boss.”

The female nodded. No one really liked Lord English’s wife. She was a highblood. The highest of them in fact, and so she treated everyone like a servant.

The Handmaid shouldn’t have been jealous of her. English married her simply for the political pull.

Still, at the end of the day, it was her that was married to him.

With a bit of blush put on her cheeks and some kohl around her eyes, The Handmaid left her dressing room, making her way on stage.

She smiled as she saw the shocked look on English’s face.

He didn’t have a clue she was the one that was going to sing.

With a deep breath, she began.

_When the little bluebird_  
Who has never said a word  
Starts to sing Spring  
When the little bluebell  
At the bottom of the dell  
Starts to ring Ding dong Ding dong  
When the little blue clerk  
In the middle of his work  
Starts a tune to the moon up above  
It is nature that is all  
Simply telling us to fall in love 

_And that's why birds do it, bees do it_  
Even educated fleas do it  
Let's do it, let's fall in love 

_In Spain, the best upper sets do it_  
Lithuanians and Letts do it  
Let's do it, let's fall in love 

_The Dutch in old Amsterdam do it_  
Not to mention the Finns  
Folks in Siam do it - think of Siamese twins 

_Some Argentines, without means, do it_  
People say in Boston even beans do it  
Let's do it, let's fall in love 

She began to sway as Sawbuck picked up the tempo on his piano. 

_Romantic sponges, they say, do it_  
Oysters down in Oyster Bay do it  
Let's do it, let's fall in love 

_Cold Cape Cod clams, 'gainst their wish, do it_  
Even lazy jellyfish, do it  
Let's do it, let's fall in love 

_Electric eels I might add do it_  
Though it shocks 'em I know  
Why ask if shad do it - Waiter bring me shad roe 

_In shallow shoals English soles do it_  
Goldfish in the privacy of bowls do it  
Let's do it, let's fall in love 

She tilted her head back, bending her knees and sinking down. Her arms raised above her head, she smiled. She always loved putting on a bit of a show.

_The dragonflies in the reeds do it_  
Sentimental centipedes do it  
let's do it it, let's fall in love 

_mos-qui-to's heaven forbid, do it_  
soon as every katydid do it  
let's do it, lets' fall in love 

_The most refined lady bu-u-ugs do it_  
When a gentleman calls  
Moths in your rugs do it  
What's the use of moth balls 

_locusts in trees do it_  
bees do it  
even over-educated fleas do it  
let's do it, let's fall in love! 

_let's do it le-e-et's fall in love  
let's do it, let's fall in love!_

With a final kick in the air she finished, bowing as the men in the audience started cat calling, demanding her to sing more.

She blew a few kisses, before stepping off the stage. She cast a glance to English, who was now bickering with his wife. He was making motions to the exit.

If only she could hear what he was saying.

\--------

“That was wonderful.”

The Handmaid looked up, smiling at the reflection of her boss.

“You were impressed Mr. English?” She asked, turning in her seat and crossing her legs.

She had taken off all but her stockings, garter-belt, and jewelry. She had been certain English would come to her after the show.

She was right.

The massive green brute locked the door behind him, going over to her with a bit of a limp, gained form when someone smashed the knee cap in his right leg. He stroked her face, sneering. “I should have you sing for me. I had no Idea you had such a voice.”

“I wasn’t always a whore. I tried my hand at singing. It didn't work out.”

The cherub scoffed, picking her up and swiping all her things off the vanity. He set her down, his hands running along her thighs. “They were tone deaf. You have a glorious voice.” He spread her legs, his tongue licking at his fingers.

Handmaid smiled, eagerly leaning back a bit more and using her hands to spread herself for him.

“Oh Ho, you want it bad don’t you?” His fingers set to work, pinching her clit and giving it a soft tug. His tongue replaced them, flicking over the bud rapidly. His fingers buried themselves inside her cunt, fingering her quickly.

The troll grabbed the back of English’s head, pulling his monstrous face closer. She honestly had never experienced sexual pleasure before him. He actually cared if she got something out of their partnering. That’s why she liked him.

That’s why she wanted that bitch out of the way so she could be his wife. She appreciated the work he did. All the work. The dirty part and the clean.

She was the one who actually cared.

The Handmaid bit her knuckles, her kohl running from her tears. English was being relentless. Her skin began to flush, a light sheen of sweat beading on her grey skin.

He pulled away, his fingers leaving her. She whined, which made him laugh. It was loud and nearly deafening. “Don’t worry my little bitch, I’m getting to the part you love the most.” He laughed again as she sat up, grabbing his shirt and trying to yank it open. He swatted her hands away, undoing the buttons quickly. A surprising feat for a man with such large fingers.

She smirked as she finally got a look at his chest. It was so heavily muscled, a few old scars from bullet wounds here and there. She kissed his neck as he undid his trousers, his hands grabbing her rear and lifting her up, lining her up with his shaft.

“You ready?”

She laughed, arching her back so he brushed against her. “Do you have to ask?” She gasped as he let her drop, his cock inside her al at once. It was a tight fit. It was always a tight fit.

She leaned back against the vanity, looking up at the man with heavily lidded eyes. The Handmaid cooed as English gave a hard thrust. Her left hand splaying on her abdomen, feeling the small bulge he caused with every thrust.

English leaned over his mistress, grabbing her hips as he put more force behind his thrusts. The furniture slammed against the wall, creaking with the quick movements he made. He ignored the yelling from the next room, savoring how lovely his little bitch felt.

For a whore she was still a good fuck. A really good one. Still tight around his cock, though that might have been because he was a rather large man. He purred as the Handmaid grasped at his skeletal face, kissing him hungrily. He eagerly returned the kiss, his right hand sliding up to cup a perky breast.

“I- Ah! I’m your favorite right?” the troll gasped out, her back arching off the vanity.

“Shush. Don’t be an idiot, witch.” he snarled, pressing her legs to her chest, causing her necklaces to dig into her skin. She whined, his cock now rubbing her cunt perfectly. Her hands pressed against his waste, trying to push him back.

“Th-That’s to much. I’m gonna.” she cried out, her cunt spasming around him with her orgasm, red fluids staining his trousers.

English pulled out, having her sit up. “Come on darling, finish me of with your lovely mouth.” He pulled her face to his cock, groaning as she took him in her mouth. “That’s it. That’s a good bitch.”

She made short work of him. Blow Jobs had been her forte. She gagged as he forced her head down, his cum hitting the back of her throat. She swallowed, pushing away from his waste to get some air. She smiled as he stroked her face, wiping away the streaks of tears that had ruined her rohl.

“Get dressed and I’ll take you home.” he drawled. 

The Handmaid nodded, whining as he pulled away to fix his clothes.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” she asked sheepishly, moving her necklaces back into place.

The cherub paused for a while as she got dressed, thinking it over.

“Yeah. I think I will. The royal bitch needs to cool off for a few days.”

The Handmaid smiled happily as she slipped on her pumps.

She really didn’t need to be jealous after all. It seemed like she was the woman he cared about.

Still...

She wasn’t the one married to him.


End file.
